


Emily

by tebtosca



Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-05-10
Updated: 2011-05-10
Packaged: 2017-10-19 06:00:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,175
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/197719
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tebtosca/pseuds/tebtosca
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ruby told Sam the vessel was empty. She lied.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Emily

My name was Emily.

I was 23 years, 3 months, 12 days and 6 hours old when a cement truck smashed into my Hyundai as I was going to surprise my boyfriend out of town and demolished my brain stem.

I was 25 years, 1 month, 7 days and 9 hours old when the tubes were removed from "Jane Doe" and the old man with the 3 piece suit and the withered face reached his hand out to me and promised me I could see my mother again for the first time since I was twelve.

I was 25 years, 1 month, 7 days, 9 hours and 1 minute old when the demon that called herself "Ruby" entered my body and began her quest to end the world.

I'm hoping someone remembers me for more than that.

 

*****

 

The first time I met Sam Winchester, Ruby waved my death certificate like a white flag and barged right back into his life. He was so large and I was but a speck of a whisper deep inside my own body. I don't know whether I feared more for myself or him. After all, I was already dead. He was stuck in a life he didn't want to live.

Ruby saved him every time he tried to die. My blood was on my lips and then on his. Although it made him strong, it slowly chipped away both his soul and mine.

*****

The first time Sam Winchester had sex with my body was the first time I really wanted to die. I could hear Ruby's laughter reverberating in my skull as I screamed for him to stop. She promised him pleasure but all he gave me was pain. As he impaled me with his self-hatred I thought about Simon. My quiet boy with the curly hair and the wire rimmed glasses, who touched me with hands with no calluses. He laid me out on his baby blue sheets and whispered words of love to me as he touched my thigh or my stomach. Sometimes I thought he was too soft, too gentle. But right then I wished for nothing more than his touch as I was bounced like a ragdoll on Sam Winchester's lap.

Ruby stared at him in his sleep afterwards, her hubris swirling around my brain like a cancer. She used my mouth to smile as she touched his face. But my fingertips came back wet as he sobbed and murmured the name he never spoke awake, over and over again. She screamed then, deep inside of me, and I laughed. I laughed so hard that actual tears poured down my cheeks in a burst of sensation.

Sam never noticed. By then he was in the bathroom throwing up my blood.

*****

The first time I met the man that Sam dreamed about I was opening the door in my underwear like a whore. I knew this man was important because of the fear I felt filling me through Ruby. She was scared of this man and it gave me such an intense burst of pleasure it made me love this Dean Winchester with everything I had left in me.

Sam said he was his brother but he touched him in a way that he never touched me. Ruby asked them with practiced nonchalance whether they were together and they denied it, but I wondered. It couldn't be any stranger than anything else that was going on around us.

But then Sam looked into the eyes of the man he whispered for in his sleep and lied. If my heart were still capable of breaking, it would have done so in that moment.

*****

 

Dean looks at Ruby _(at me, he's looking at me)_ with such loathing and mistrust that it makes me want to sing. I repeat "stop her, Dean, stop her" over and over like a prayer, hoping that some part of him will hear me.

Then one day Dean Winchester attempts to thank the monster who, unbeknownest to him, destroyed both myself and his brother, and I knew no one was going to save me.

 

*****

I'd never fought so hard to keep Ruby at the surface as the time when the man with the knives strapped me down naked to a table. Every cut was like a benediction because I knew she could feel every slice. I'd never felt bliss like that, being tortured on a table by a madman.

 

*****

I think Ruby was jealous of me. Jealous because I had been a normal girl with a normal life and a normal boy. She was a thing, an abomination. Even when she thought she loved him, it was a lie. Demons couldn't love. But I could, I did.

She would rub the french fries around my mouth, knowing the tiny bit of salt would burn like acid. She smiled when she did it.

*****

I was pretty. My mother told me so when I was a little girl as she braided my long brown hair. Sam told me so one night, while he thought Ruby slept. He whispered it like a curse and the sound of his voice was so hoarse that I could have sworn it was filled with bile. It made me smile inside that he hated himself for thinking it, even as I realized part of me had never been happier than when Sam Winchester thought I was pretty. I hated myself at that moment too.

*****

 

Looking at Cindy McClellan was like looking into a funhouse mirror. It had been so long that I forgot what my own terror must have felt like. She stared at me with big, beautiful, pleading eyes as my hand sliced her arm and held it to Sam's lips.

I think Cindy and I would have been friends if I wasn't the one that had helped kill her.

*****

I stared at the woman in the long white dress and knew the world was at it's end. I couldn't bring myself to care.

Afterwards, Ruby used my fingers to touch Sam's face and as I looked into his eyes I knew then he could have been my friend too. Like Cindy and poor Anna Milton and the man with the blue eyes. He looked at me like a child that had lost his mother, so scared, so wild. For the first time I realized that he was as much trapped inside of his wretched body as I was, and for a moment I pitied him.

When I felt the hands grasp my shoulders I sighed "thank you Sam."

When I felt the tip of the knife enter my stomach I sighed "thank you Dean."

I hoped that even as the world prepared to burn that Simon, my Simon, would think of me with my pretty hair fanned out on his baby blue sheets.

I was 25 years, 10 months, 3 days and 4 hours old when the old man with the three piece suit and the withered face placed his hand on mine and I hugged my mother again.


End file.
